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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181201">Look Into Your Heart, Baby</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/peevee/pseuds/peevee'>peevee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Reversal [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:16:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,920</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181201</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/peevee/pseuds/peevee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem with Marsha Robson was that Richie didn’t like her. And okay, yeah, Richie was an asshole to everyone. Eddie knew that better than anyone, but he couldn’t work out why Richie was being an asshole about <i>this</i>, specifically.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Original Female Character(s), Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Reversal [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745266</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>123</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Look Into Your Heart, Baby</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Apparently I couldn't get the idea of Alternate Timeline Richie and Eddie out of my head, so this is just a fun snippet from that world. You don't need to read the previous story for this one to make sense!</p><p>I know next to nothing about what homecoming is all about so apologies in advance and I hope that's not too obvious.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eddie liked Marsha Robson. She was taller than him, but she held herself awkwardly, like she was trying to make herself look small next to him. Most people were taller than Eddie; he was still waiting on his growth spurt.</p><p>Marsha had long, brown hair that she wore in a ponytail and teased into fluffy curls around her face. She wore large, soft sweatshirts in various shades of pink, and she smelled like strawberry liquorice. She liked pop music and magazines about horses, but she also liked The Terminator; when they’d gone to the movies together to see Judgement Day she had gripped Eddie’s hand sweatily, gasping with delight. </p><p>The problem with Marsha Robson was that Richie didn’t like her. And okay, yeah, Richie was an asshole to everyone. Eddie knew that better than anyone, but he couldn’t work out why Richie was being an asshole about <i>this</i>, specifically. </p><p>“We’re supposed to stick together!” he said, when Eddie jabbed him in the ribs about it, the two of them alone in the old clubhouse. It was dusty from lack of use, but Richie was still sitting on the filthy floor, bouncing a rubber ball against one of the beams and catching it. “It’s always been us, man! The Losers! Not ‘The Losers and Horse Girl’.”</p><p>“Don’t call her that.”</p><p>“Horse Girl and The Eds. That could be your new gang, since you like her so much more than us: <i>Introducing the world’s hottest new girl group</i>!" Richie threw the ball hard, and it ricocheted off the beam and bounced out of his reach.</p><p>“You’re such a shithead,” Eddie said. “She’s really nice, Richie! I don’t get why you have to be such a weirdo about this. I’m not skipping on hanging with you guys, so what the fuck’s your problem?”</p><p>Richie snorted, but remained silent. </p><p>“You’re fucking impossible,” Eddie said, getting up to leave. “Just... try not to be too much of an asshole to her, alright? I like her.”</p><p>“Gross.”</p><p>“Fuck <i>off</i>.”</p><p>He left, feeling genuinely angry with Richie. Why couldn’t he be fucking normal about this? Was he jealous? Richie had never shown much of an interest in Marsha, but maybe now that she and Eddie were hanging out? Eddie kicked a pile of leaves. These days, talking to Richie always left him feeling frustrated and pissed off and <i>confused</i>. It wasn’t easy, like it had been when they were kids. He and Richie had fitted together so easily, even when Richie was running his mouth or being disgusting, which was always. Eddie didn’t remember the sense of helpless frustration that seemed to dog his every interaction with Richie over the past year. It didn’t help that Richie was suddenly so much taller than him; it made him feel off-balance in ways he didn’t quite understand.</p><p>He stopped by at Marsha’s on his way home, brushing the dust off his shorts and fixing his hair in her dad’s car mirror before he knocked. </p><p>“Hey, Mrs. Robson.”</p><p>“Hi, Eddie! Come in, Marsha’s up in her room. Leave the door open, okay?” </p><p>As always, her tone made Eddie blush bright red, even though they’d never done anything more than hold hands. Like they would… in the middle of the day!</p><p>“Okay, Mrs. Robson,” he managed, taking off up the stairs two at a time. </p><p>Marsha’s door was slightly open, but he knocked anyway. He didn’t know if girls got up to anything embarrassing in their rooms, but he hated when his mom barged in without asking. Marsha opened the door, her eyebrows raised in surprise. </p><p>“Hey Eddie! Did I forget you said you were coming over?”</p><p>“Oh, uh, no, I was just passing,” he said, realising that he wasn’t actually sure why he’d come over. He just felt like he needed to, after talking to Richie. “Are you like, free to hang out, or whatever?”</p><p>“Sure, Eddie.” Marsha capped a purple pen and shut her notebook; she’d been drawing, it looked like. Eddie had only seen her drawings a couple times; winged horses, elves, fairies. She was pretty good. She liked fantasy stuff, and had blushingly told Eddie that her first crush had been on Faramir from <i>The Lord of The Rings</i>. “Wanna go down to the creek?”</p><p>They walked slowly, hands pressed together. Marsha told him about her aunt’s dog who had just had puppies, complained about her little sister stealing her stuff, then they argued which movie to see at the weekend. Marsha wanted <i>Beethoven</i>; Eddie thought that it sounded lame, and why would you go and see a movie about dogs when the new <i>Batman</i> was out? It ended with Marsha splashing Eddie with water from the creek, which, <i>gross</i>, but she did agree that <i>Batman Returns</i> sounded cool. </p><p>So, Eddie liked hanging out with Marsha Robson. But he didn’t want to kiss her. </p><p>Bill had been given detention last term for necking with Emily Murphy when he was supposed to be in math class. He and Bev had stopped talking to each other for a month, but before that, it seemed like every time he went to the clubhouse he had caught them with their tongues down each other’s throats. It made Eddie want to gag. Even Richie had blown up at them:</p><p>“Get a fricken’ room, Jesus! I don’t need the image of your weeny little boner seared onto my eyelids, Billiam.”</p><p>“You can’t, it’s not, t-there isn’t,” Bill said, and Bev had cracked up laughing as Bill had dragged a cushion over himself. </p><p>At least Richie had stopped making pussy jokes at every opportunity, but now it seemed like the things he did say were specifically calculated to wind Eddie up until he was furious and frustrated at himself for being furious. He didn’t even know why: Richie hadn’t actually changed that much, but something about the smirking set of his mouth when he was joking around just set Eddie on edge constantly. </p><p>“Whatcha thinking about?” said Marsha, poking him gently between the eyes. They were sitting on a large, flat rock next to the creek. It had been warmed by the sun, and insects drifted lazily around them.</p><p>Eddie blinked. He’d obviously zoned out, but she didn’t seem pissed. Marsha didn’t mind sitting in silence. She liked being quiet, she said, because her family was so crazy. Eddie guessed that if he had five sisters he’d enjoy the quiet more, too.</p><p>“I had a stupid fight with Richie,” he said, turning to face her. “He’s so fucking annoying right now, I swear. I don’t know what’s up with him.”</p><p>Marsha nodded. “Yeah. I fight with Grace all the time. She’s so stubborn. Sometimes I’m like, ugh! Why are we friends?”</p><p>“Exactly! He’s so <i>loud</i> and gross and he’s such an idiot.”</p><p>“But I guess we fight the most with people we like the most, right? I fight with my sisters all the time, but I still love them.”</p><p>“I guess,” said Eddie. He picked at a hangnail. He didn’t fight with the others as much as he fought with Richie, but that had always been true. Richie just… knew how to rile him. Knew his sore spots and prodded at them. He wondered what Marsha would say if she knew about Richie’s nickname for her, whether she’d be as kind about him. </p><p>“Hey Eddie,” said Marsha, after a few more minutes of quiet. She sat forward and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Would you come to Homecoming with me?” </p><p>Eddie blinked, opened his mouth. </p><p>“I know the boy is supposed to ask,” said Marsha, “but I think that’s a stupid tradition, and I want to go with you, so. Will you?”</p><p>“Yeah,” said Eddie. “Okay.” </p><p>Marsha held her hand out, and Eddie grasped it in his. </p><p>-</p><p>Richie was even more weird after Eddie told him about it. </p><p>“Whatever,” he said. “Homecoming’s for losers.”</p><p>“So you’re not coming?”</p><p>“I didn’t say that. We’re losers, aren’t we?” He flicked the butt of his cigarette towards Eddie. He’d started smoking the stupid things because he thought it made him look cool: <i>Chicks love it, Eds Spagheds</i>, he’d said, blowing smoke in Eddie’s face. Eddie made a show of coughing and gagging, but he secretly kind of agreed. He’d never admit to it even under torture, but the sight of Richie holding a smoke in the vee of his fingers was strangely compelling. He looked older, a little dangerous. Which was a stupid fucking thing to think, because he was Richie and he was a <i>dork</i> with stupid glasses and a stupid face, but the way he let the smoke pool in his mouth then rise in gentle puffs made Eddie’s insides twist weirdly. </p><p>Eddie stamped on the cigarette, because it was a fire risk.</p><p>“I’m going stag,” said Richie, “can’t disappoint all my admirers by picking just one!”</p><p>“Oh yeah, I forgot about the hordes of girls chasing after your raggedy ass.”</p><p>“Fuck you,” said Richie, without much bite. “See you there, then, I guess.”</p><p>-</p><p>Eddie picked Marsha up in his mom’s car, after promising her a billion times that no, he wouldn’t drink and no, he wouldn’t drive over thirty, mom, and yes, he’d be back by ten, jeez! Marsha was wearing a long white dress with a puffy sort of neckline, and high heeled sandals that she wobbled in as she made her way to the car.</p><p>“Are those comfortable?”</p><p>“They’re so awful,” she said mournfully. “I’m going to have the biggest blisters.”</p><p>She caved an hour in and took them off, so at least she wasn’t towering that much over Eddie as they rocked slowly together to Bryan Adams crooning <i>(Everything I Do) I Do It for You</i>. </p><p>Other couples were kissing openly in the middle of the dancefloor. Marsha smiled at him. Eddie wondered what was wrong with him, that he didn’t want that with her. He liked her a lot. She was very pretty, he thought, looking up into her blue eyes. She had freckles on her nose, like Richie’s. </p><p>Richie and Stan were standing off to one side, whispering in each other’s ears and giggling as they surveyed the mass of couples slowly stepping back and forth. Bev, in a short purple dress, was talking to Ben over by the punch table. Bill was swaying somewhere nearby with Emily Murphy. </p><p>When Eddie next looked over, Richie and Stan were gone. </p><p>“Eddie,” said Marsha, when the song was over, “Listen, I need to go and find Grace. I saw her leaving and she looked really upset.”</p><p>“Okay, yeah. See you?”</p><p>“See you,” said Marsha, trotting away in her stockinged feet to find her friend. </p><p>Eddie found an elbow hooked through his, and then he was being dragged by Bev over to the side of the punch table where Ben was sitting, sipping from a red cup. </p><p>“How’s <i>Marsha</i>?" said Bev, waggling her eyebrows a bit. </p><p>“She’s fine,” said Eddie.</p><p>“She looks really pretty.”</p><p>“Yeah, she looks nice,” Eddie agreed. “Where did Richie and Stan go?”</p><p>“Out to smoke that fucking cigar that Richie sneaked in,” said Bev, rolling her eyes. “Those things stink.”</p><p>“On the football field?”</p><p>“Yeah I think so, hey! Where are you--”</p><p>Eddie wandered out into the cool evening air. It was still pretty light out, and he could hear the sounds of a few people out towards the football field, talking and laughing. </p><p>
  <i>”Marsha</i>--”
</p><p>
  <i>“I… I’m so sorry, I didn’t</i>--”
</p><p>Eddie stopped, curious. He could see the fluffy shoulder of Marsha’s dress sticking up from behind a bush that filled one of the large concrete planters. She was murmuring quietly, and Eddie heard somebody else that must be Grace, sniffing wetly. Shit. She was probably crying. Eddie hated it when people cried, he never knew what to say to them, and it was always obvious they hadn’t wanted anyone to see them. He crept past them, trying to be as quiet as possible. </p><p>“You don’t need to be sorry,” he heard Grace say softly. Then more quiet talking that he couldn’t make out, and then--</p><p>“Kiss me again.”</p><p>Eddie froze, heart pounding. Shit. He shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t for him to hear, and he started to panic when he heard some more rustling, that they were going to stand up, they were going to see him. </p><p>
  <i>Kiss me again</i>
</p><p>He knew, objectively, that it was possible for girls to like girls, and for boys to like boys. He just hadn’t thought that <i>Marsha</i>... she was so girly. He supposed that he didn’t really know why that was surprising; he had no idea how girls who liked girls should dress. Maybe he should have been more upset that Marsha was kissing someone that wasn’t him, but all he could think of was relief that Marsha didn’t want to kiss him. She wanted to kiss Grace. Holy shit. </p><p>He crept further away, and as soon as he was out of earshot he raced out towards the football field, heart pounding, head whirling. Stan was sitting with a girl from his class, passing a cigar to her. </p><p>“Where’s Richie?”</p><p>“He went home,” said Stan. “Eddie, are you okay? Want to sit?”</p><p>Eddie looked between them, at the way that Stan’s jacket was slung over the girl’s shoulders. They were sitting close together. </p><p>“Uh, no. I mean, yes. I’m fine. I’m going to--” He gestured towards town. </p><p>“Eddie, wait!” said Stan, but Eddie was already running, not towards Richie’s, but towards the clubhouse. </p><p>His lungs were burning by the time he got there, legs like jell-o. Now he was at the entrance to the clubhouse, he wasn’t sure why he’d gone there. Did he want to tell Richie what had happened? That felt wrong; Marsha wouldn’t want him to know. He just felt energised, like he needed to see Richie. Have all of that laser-beam attention turned on him. He flipped open the hatch and peered into the gloom. </p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Eddie?” Richie was in the hammock, a small lantern illuminating the shape of him as he swung his legs out and peered at Eddie. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I… uh,” said Eddie. Richie stood, switched on one of the bigger lanterns that was perched on a stump. His pale suit was grass-stained, creased and too short in the arms, his bony wrists poking out. His eyes looked a little red, and in the cool bluish light his freckles stood out against his face. He had a pimple on his nose. Eddie clambered down the ladder to stand in front of him, and Richie, for once in his life, said nothing. He said nothing when Eddie brought his hand up slowly, so painfully slowly to rest on his shoulder. He just blinked, then, quickly, his eyes flicked down to Eddie’s mouth. Eddie made a decision.</p><p>He surged upwards before he could think any more about what he was doing, grabbing onto Richie’s shoulders as he pressed his mouth to Richie’s. Kissed him. It was a quick kiss, just a press of lips to lips. Eddie’s heart felt like it was about to pound out of his chest. </p><p>“Eddie,” said Richie raggedly, then he flipped them around, pressed Eddie up against one of the old support beams and kissed him, really <i>kissed</i> him. Eddie had never kissed anyone before; his head swam with it, with the soft brush of Richie’s tongue to his lips, smelling of dust and grass and cigar smoke. His mouth was so warm.</p><p>He broke off, panting, Richie hunched over him like a gangly giant. </p><p>“I, that--”</p><p>“If you say that was a mistake,” Richie said roughly, “I am going to fucking scream, Eddie.”</p><p>“I… no. It wasn’t.” </p><p>Richie’s eyes darted over his face, as if searching for a lie, then he let out a sort of crazy sounding laugh. Eddie frowned, straightening up, ready to step away, but Richie’s arm reached out to Eddie’s shoulder, to slide up Eddie’s neck. </p><p>“Sorry, I’m not. I’m not laughing at you, I promise. Shit.” He swooped in for another quick kiss. “I just, I can’t believe that you… wow.” He stepped back slightly and gave himself a light slap around the face, grinning widely. “Am I dreaming? Was the punch spiked, or did you just kiss me, Edward Spaghedward?”</p><p>“The punch was definitely spiked, but yeah. I, uh. I kissed you.”</p><p>“Woo!” said Richie. He did a little spin on the spot, then he actually fucking punched the air. Oh, god, Eddie realised, he was going to be this insufferable all the time. Richie paused mid-victory dance to grimace. “Wait. What about Marsha?”</p><p>And suddenly a lot of Richie’s feelings about Marsha Robson were becoming a lot clearer. Eddie blushed, thinking of all the times he’d wondered if Richie was jealous, and he <i>had</i> been. Just not in the way Eddie had thought. God, he was an idiot. </p><p>“I don’t want to kiss Marsha,” said Eddie firmly. “She doesn’t want to kiss me either.”</p><p>“Oh, well. That’s… good. Good.”</p><p>“Good,” Eddie agreed. He looked up at Richie, at that familiar owlish face peering down at him through his milk bottle glasses. All the times he’d thought of Richie and felt that squirming, dropping feeling in the pit of his stomach. All that frustration, all of their stupid fucking arguments. Eddie should have felt foolish, but he looked at the curve of Richie’s smiling mouth and only wanted to kiss it again.  He held his hand out, and Richie took it. They had all the time in the world. </p>
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